


Backfire

by deanandapplepie



Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, but not really, in the beginnings of phone sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-06
Updated: 2017-04-06
Packaged: 2018-10-15 07:26:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10552406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deanandapplepie/pseuds/deanandapplepie
Summary: In which you wanted a playful conversation with your favorite guy but everything backfires and you are left a sobbing mess. This is not what you wanted at all. [reader/707]





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, I haven't written fanfiction since high school. I went on Lunaescence to read some of my work and I realize my writing style has drastically changed, and decided to give writing a shot again! I HAVE BEEN OBSESSED WITH MYSTIC MESSENGER AND 707 SO HERE GOES, also not the direction I wanted to go in but HERE YOU GO. (ALSO MY FIRST STORY ON HERE constructive criticism is nice)

**707** : im bored and no one is online!!!  
**707** : helloooooo  
**707** : HELLLOOOOO  
**707** : i guess this is the end  
**707** : what if i, 707, was in danger and only could communicate with this chat  
**707** : is that what you wanted me to say lol jk  
**707** : pls pls pls im bored and im dying from this terrible disease!!!  
[you log on]

 **707** : OH FINALLY i can have some fun  
**[f/n]** : jesus christ, it’s three in the morning. Aren’t you supposed to be asleep?  
**707** : i could ask the same for you!!  
**[f/n]** : your messages were waking me up, but i suppose it isn’t a bad thing since it’s you  
**707 oh!**  
**707** : i  
**707** : am  
**707** : flattered!!!  
**[f/n]** : what are you doing up?  
**707** : i can’t sleep, drank too much phd. pepper  
**[f/n]** : that can’t be good  
**707** : BUT NOW I FEEL THE WORLD IS MY OYSTER AND I CAN DO ANYTHING I WANT  
**[f/n]** : the indestructible seven zero seven!!! The savior of the world!!!  
**707** : yes but now it’s time for me to go  
**[f/n]** : what, why? You just got here lol  
**707** : no you just got here, i was waiting forever!  
**[f/n]** : you getting tired?  
**707** : 707 never gets tired!!! I only get energized!  
**[f/n]** : i’m sure, maybe the sugar rush went away lol  
**707** : you could be right  
**707** : but sleep has me in his arms  
**707** : i’m trying to fight him but he’s winning!!!  
**[f/n]** : you can do it defender of justice, you can do it!!!  
**707** : byeeeee i’m off!  
**[f/n]** : wait, call me before you go  
**707** : why  
**[f/n]** : i want to talk to you~  
[ **707** has logged off]

    You are lying on your bed, waiting for his phone call. It is only 3:24 am, yet you are still awake. There are many reasons for this: one, you too, drank too much soda and now the sugar has been keeping you up, and two, you are horny as fuck. This came on so suddenly, but you realize since you have been cooped up here, you haven’t gotten any action. Or talked to the opposite sex in that kind of sense. Well, you have been… but it is not the same.  
  
    You sigh and roll to your side, staring at your phone and rereading the conversation you had with Seven. Every time he would log in to the messenger, your heart would race. You would get excited. This is a crush, you thought to yourself, and a bad one at that. You figured he would never ever look at you that same way, especially since he has never met you before. Seen you, yes, but meeting you was a different thing altogether. You are a completely different person in the messenger app…  
  
    You feel your phone buzzing, and you immediately sit up straight and answer it.  
  
    “Hello?”  
  
     “Meow, meow~”  
  
    You grin and lay down on your bed again. “Seven, seven, my lovely seven~” you sing into the phone. You smile.  
  
     “Oh my! Lovely!?...you’re going to make me blush,” Seven says in an embarrassed tone of voice. You have no idea if he is truly embarrassed or just teasing you.  
  
    All of the confidence you just had vanished into thin air and now it’s just you breathing on the phone. The silence is overwhelming; you don’t know what to say. You don’t know if you want to go through with this anymore.  
  
    “Are we playing the quiet game?” he asks, and you blush.  
  
    “No! I mean, well. I wanted to play a game with you, but I don’t -- never mind, just. I... Have a good night.” Your face is hot and you feel the embarrassment cover your whole body.  
  
    Seven chuckles on the other side. “Someone is shy! Come on, I like games. I’ll play one with you before I sleep.”  
  
    Should you go through with it? It’s almost four in the morning; if anything, you can always say that you were delusional from lack of sleep. Or maybe from too much sugar. Or you can even blame it on the lack of romance in your life and that Seven was safe. But that sounds too mean to say…  
  
    You nervously lick your lips. You know you are making a lot of noises by going underneath your blanket and moving around on your bed. He is probably wondering what in the world you are doing. Finally, you sigh and then say, “What are you wearing?”  
  
    “Oh!” he says, and for a second, he goes silent. You think he knows what you are trying to do, and you desperately hope that he plays along. But another side of you hopes he laughs and hangs up the phone. You really are not cut out for this.  
  
    But why are you doing this then? Are you really this attached to Seven? It’s ridiculous; you didn’t even meet the guy.  
  
    “I just have boxers on.”  
  
    You inhale sharply and feel another blush sweep across your face. “Just boxers?” You barely squeak out what was just said. Oh god, imagining Seven in boxers… _just_ boxers. Meaning he has no shirt on. Meaning he is half naked.  
  
    There is an awkward silence on the phone and you immediately feel the redness leave your face. Dread dawns on you. “Did I say that out loud?”  
  
    “Yes, so now I know exactly what game we are playing,” he says, and the seriousness in his voice makes you sad. Is he not going to play along?  
  
    “I’m sorry if I offended you or something,” you say quickly, now sitting on your bed. You can’t sit still with all the anxiety running through you. You begin to talk quickly with your hand covering your face. “It’s just that I really like you and that you’re great and I don’t know why I am telling you this and I don’t want to creep you out or anything like that and I just wish you were here.”  
  
    Again, silence. Just breathing. You fucked everything up, as per usual. If only you didn’t say that out loud! Or maybe Seven wasn’t going to play along the entire time. Maybe he’s just not that into you. Or not into you at all. That would be your luck. Actually, at this point, you wish he’s not into you, as some sort of punishment for being such an idiot.  
  
     “I -- Listen, [ **f/n** ]... There are a lot of things I want to -- I mean, you’re really nice but... No, that is coming out wrong, I mean… Listen, I just can’t do this. Not with you, you’ll get into trouble with me. Like, big trouble. I don’t think--”  
  
    You feel tears welling up, and any second now you will start sobbing hysterically. “No, no. It’s fine. Just say it if you don’t like me back--”  
  
    “It’s not like that! God, you’re so stubborn! Just listen to me, okay!” he almost screams into the phone out of frustration. You are taken aback, and fall silent on the line. “There are a lot of things I want to say to you but I can’t, okay? It’s better for me -- actually, better for you, to not be with me. Or to associate yourself with me.”  
  
    You feel your face get hot and your tears finally fall. You sniffle and wipe away your tears. “I understand, Seven. I think. No. I do. I do.” You really didn’t, but anything to make him happy.  
  
    He sighs, and you can feel the tension in his voice in what he says next. “That’s all I ask. Thank you.” A pregnant pause follows and then he whispers, “Good night, [ **f/n** ].”  
  
    Seven hangs up the phone and you realize that you didn’t; the dial tone plays loudly in your ear. You hang up the phone and get under your covers, hoping Seven would just knock on your door, apologizing about how he had the audacity for talking to you like this and made you feel like the lowest scum on Earth. But he doesn’t, and your wish falls onto deaf ears.


End file.
